


Guide Me

by Falpex



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Endgame ziam - Freeform, Growing Up, M/M, OT5 Friendship (One Direction), Potter!Direction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:40:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21741601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Falpex/pseuds/Falpex
Summary: Zayn Malik doesn't quite know what he's in for when he gets on the Hogwarts Express. Follow along as he makes friends and enemies, learns about magic and himself, and pulls a whole lot of pranks along the way.The story follows our One Direction boys through their Hogwarts years, friendships and heartbreaks. Angst and fluff -- should be fun!
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Niall Horan & Harry Styles, Zayn Malik & Louis Tomlinson, Zayn Malik/Liam Payne
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	Guide Me

**Author's Note:**

> Hiiiiii thanks for reading my first fic in a looong time! This is (mostly) from Zayn's perspective, but I will switch around a little bit once we start meeting everyone else. I have a lot planned/mapped out, and hope to update at a good clip, life allowing.  
> Things to know: Zayn and Louis are in the same year, Liam is one below them, and Niall and Harry are one below him. I fiddled with Zayn's family a bit, mostly because I don't know all the details of his cousins, etc. The main change was switching him and Doniya (so she is one year younger than him) so he is the oldest.  
> Disclaimer: I don't own One Direction, Harry Potter, Sony, Warner Brothers or anyone else who might show up in here. As we don't say much anymore, it's your sandbox, I just like to play in it.

Zayn slipped around his sisters, over to the side of the ballroom. It was the very end of the summer, and he would be going off to Hogwarts tomorrow; he couldn’t wait! But he was a little tired of old people grabbing his cheeks and telling him how tall he was and how great he’d be and about “their day.” Zayn didn’t care about “their day;” he just wanted to have some fun in _his_ day. He thought he’d seen some boy he maybe knew over by the punch. So he made his way over there, eyeing the other kid.

His brown hair was a mess, sticking up like a hedgehog’s spines in the back and to the sides. A single long strand swooped from the corner of his forehead over one eye and his nose. He had his hands on his hips, and was eyeing the punch with a narrowed look, like it had insulted him or something. As Zayn drew near, he heard the boy humming to himself a bit, and suddenly knew where he’d seen him before: two summers ago, when he had had dancing lessons. There had been a few other pureblooded kids at the lessons, and this boy with the brown hair had been one of them. He’d ignored the moves they were supposed to be learning, doing quick jumps and spins when no one was expecting it, and once he switched partners seven times in one step. Zayn remembered those warm hands in his own, spinning and laughing in one of the only good days of dancing class. Most of them were not as good and Zayn hadn’t stayed for very long; dancing was not his thing, and once he knew enough _not to embarrass them,_ as his father had said, he was allowed to leave and never come back. He had barely thought about the lessons, or the boy since. But now here he was, staring between the falafel and the punch like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to eat or drink and humming one of the waltzes they’d learned two years ago; it contrasted weirdly with the quick two-step the band was playing.

The ball had been going on for hours, and his mum had been planning it for weeks. Zayn didn’t really get why there had to be a _ball_ before he left for school, anyway. I mean, people went off to Hogwarts every year, and they didn’t have a whole ball. But his father had insisted, and his mum enjoyed planning it, so a ball there would be. At least the food was good.

That’s what he said to the familiar boy. “Try some of this sticky toffee pudding.” And then, when the kid gave him a confused look: “Oh! Thank youfor coming.” Zayn shook his head. He’d said that phrase so many times it was starting to make zero sense. He looked over at the boy, who was still staring at him blankly.

“What?” Blue eyes met his, confusion swirling in them.

Zayn heaved a sigh that made some of the purple and green decorations spin about his head. “I’m Zayn,” he said. “Like, Malik? This is my party?”

“Oh!” The kid looked relieved to know what was happening, finally. “Louis Tomlinson. I thought this party was for all the first-years?” But he winked, so Zayn could tell he didn’t mean it.

“I think this party is to make me suffer, that’s all. The only good part is the food. I swear, though, that pudding is actually delicious, you should try some.”

Louis hummed a bit, thoughtful. He reached out and, skipping over the pudding, stuck his thumb into the dip.

Zayn gaped. “What-“

Louis jammed his thumb into his mouth, sucked hard, and then grinned, quick and sharp. “That was alright,” he said, over Zayn’s shocked, “That was _not_ what I told you to try!”

Louis just shrugged. “Do you want to dance?” he asked.

Zayn stepped back so quickly he scraped his back through his dress robes. “I don’t dance.”

“Not even with pretty birds like those?” Louis asked, jerking his head across the room at- Doniya.

“That’s my sister.” Zayn giggled as it was now Louis’ turn to jerk back, surprised. He recovered quickly though, when he saw Zayn wasn’t mad.

“Well. Oh.” Louis said. “Can I dance with her?” But he leaned back against the wall as he spoke, settling in, his shoulder just brushing Zayn’s. Zayn quietly scooted away, making room.

“I don’t really know how to dance,” Louis admitted.

Zayn nodded in response. He watched the dancers for a minute, his cousins and pureblood friends of his father from work, forming up into neat lines and criss-crossing the floor. Then he blinked and stepped away from the wall, spinning to stare at the other boy.

“I _know_ you know how to dance. I was at class with you!” Who even was this kid? This was ridiculous. Louis’ face turned red and his eyebrows scrunched down.

“Well,” he said, “fine. I do know how to dance, but I was trying to make you feel better! You shouldn’t be sad at your own party.”

Zayn stared for a moment. Finally, he leaned back into the wall next to Louis. “I’m not sad,” he said, after too long staying quiet.

Louis doesn’t say anything to that. They lean in companionable silence, and Zayn thinks maybe he shouldn’t be so worried about Hogwarts after all. He can do silence.

It soon becomes clear that the other boy cannot do silence. Louis shifts on his feet, and then begins humming along to the music. He keeps glancing at Zayn and then away, again and again, until finally one of them thinks of something else to say.

Louis pushes away from the wall, going up on tiptoe to point over the tables. “So, that’s your sister?” He isn’t actually pointing to where Doniya is, but where she was earlier, but Zayn nods.

“Do you have any more? I’ve got two, they are pretty little, though. Do you have any brothers? What about your grandparents?”

Zayn blinks. “Uh, yeah, I’ve got three sisters, um…” He looks around himself, finally spotting most of his family over by the entryway. He points them out to the other boy. “That’s Doniya, and my parents with her, and then Wali and Safaa are littler, so they are upstairs.”

Louis nods, gazing over at them. He seems actually interested, not just like someone who has been raised to be polite, and Zayn finds himself wanting to share. His mum had told him to socialize after all. “I don’t know my dad’s parents too well, they aren’t from England. But my mum has two brothers, they are all…” He scanned the ballroom. “Oh! Over there, by the window? That’s my Uncle Ron in the green, and Phil is next to him. He’s got two little girls, like. Babies.”

Louis’ face lights up. He bounces a bit on his feet. “Babies? I love babies.”

Zayn smiles. “They aren’t here, my Aunt Lee stayed home with them. The youngest is only a couple of months.”

“Oh. No babies, then.”

Zayn laughs, Louis actually heaves a sigh of disappointment. Then he takes a step back, frowning a little at the wall. Zayn turns around to see what he’s looking at.

“Oh… right,” he mumbles, hunching his shoulders. While looking around at the guests, they have moved down the hall from the food, and are now standing right in front of a banner. A huge, shiny gold banner reading ZAYN MALIK – HOGWARTS FIRST-YEAR. The letters are a plain black, at least, but nothing else about it is; the whole thing has been charmed to send multicolored sparkles showering down from it. Zayn had watched his mum set it up, and when everyone had arrived it had sprayed over the whole room in a big burst, but now, after a couple of hours, they are just sort of fizzing over the front of the banner. They don’t hurt or make any noise, though, and Zayn catches a few, watching them land on his palm and then go out.

Louis cocks his head, intrigued. He sticks his hand out and catches some of the sparks in his own hand. “Oh! I didn’t think you’d be able to feel them,” he laughs.

Zayn grins. “Watch this,” he says. He catches one on one finger.

Louis copies him, then catches one in each hand at once. Soon they are trying for three, and then more. Zayn finds out they do make a noise if you smack one into the wall, a sort of soft popping. Louis is trying to bat some into Zayn’s hair, and they are both jumping around trying to dodge each other. Zayn ducks, laughing, and makes eye contact with his mum across the room. She raises her eyebrows. _Woops_ , he thinks guiltily.

He turns to Louis. “Hey, um, I’m actually supposed to be talking with everyone. And my mum saw us. So, uh.”

Louis looks over his shoulder. “Oh, yeah, she looks angry.” He puts his hands on his hips suddenly, adopting a very posh accent. “How _could_ you ignore your guests, _Zayn_? It is _incredibly_ rude of you!”

“You are incredibly loud.”

Louis giggles. “Yeah, mate, I know. Go on, though, shake hands and that. Good to meet you.” He claps his hand to Zayn’s arm. “Again, you know.”

“Yeah. “Zayn nods. “Yeah, you too. I’ll just. Walk around quick, and see you later?”

“Sure.”

So Zayn walks around. He talks with his uncles, asking about baby Elizabeth and trying not to tune out in boredom while Uncle Phil tells him how she sleeps through the night. He tells some friends of his Dad that he thinks probably Slytherin, but he would be okay with Ravenclaw, too. He stands awkwardly next to a boy whose mum is good friends with his, while they gush over how tall they’ve both gotten. His name is Joey and he’s a couple of inches taller than Zayn. He looks like he’d be at least a fourth-year, but is only a year older than Zayn, in Slytherin. Zayn tries to be friendly while their mums chat, but the boy isn’t really listening to him. He’s staring at some of the couples still spinning on the dance floor. Zayn has no idea how they do it; his feet hurt and all he’s done is stand around. He catches sight of Louis across the room, messing about with the banner with two younger boys now.

By the time Zayn makes it over there, nodding and chatting to yet more friends of his parents, Louis has moved somewhere else. He shakes all the hands, thanks everyone and thinks longingly of a bath and his bed. It feels like hours more before he finds himself alone, and moves to get some more food. A lot of it is gone by now, and their house-elf is hovering in the corner, starting to magic away some of the tables as they empty. Zayn collapses into a chair just before it disappears, staring at his cold beef sullenly.

He’s taken one bite and decided it’s not too bad cold, after all, when his mum comes over with Doniya. She winks at him and waves her wand, and his food heats up. “Why so glum, Zayn?”

“Yeah!” Doni plops into a chair next to him. “Did you dance yet, Zayn? I had such a good time, and I showed Dad all my steps. Uncle Phil called them ‘darling’.”

Zayn stabs at his food. “I don’t like dancing.” He chews a now-warm bite, and thinks that maybe he should sound a bit more grateful. “But I had a good time, Mum, thanks for planning it.”

His mum nods. She presses his hand gently, until he puts down his fork. “What’s wrong, though, love?”

“Well- I don’t want to leave you guys,“ he admits. “I wish it could have been just us, tonight. I won’t get to have dinner at home for... I don’t know. Until Christmas, I guess.”

Doniya frowns. She hadn’t thought of any of that, caught up in the party and her new robes and getting to dance.

His mum sighs, and strokes his hair. Zayn leans away from it, making her laugh a bit. “Don’t you worry, Zayn. You‘ll love Hogwarts. Your father didn’t go, but I went, so I know.” She leans to kiss his head, and he lets her this time.

Zayn watches the few remaining guests trickle out with his head on his mum’s shoulder. Tomorrow, he goes to Hogwarts. Tonight, he wants to sit with his family.


End file.
